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betterdays Mar 2014
Ethel echidna
had a date wid Pike,
a fiiine!
young hedgehog
who be doin' the backpack

she got n' egg
ya see bout a rave
up in the mountains
in a black cathederic cave
doof doof in the dandenongs

d' message said
up dee track
where the ding dongs
don't dare follow
round d' hollow n'
up the back

Ethel she preened
and she polished
the dreds down her back,
clickety, click, clack.
painted her claws
a fetching shade
of orange neon
all watched on by
Pike the backpack peon

then to the doof
dey departed
at a fast shuffel
leaving behin
barely a ruffle
in the burrowed air
they followed
d'directions to
d' right section
dis dey knew
by d' sound of
d' massive party
goin down

on payin d' dosh n'
getten d' mark
off dey went
inta the fray
***** boy mumbled
"woyhoy gotcha!"
when he saw who
was providin
the goodmuse vibing
up ona stage
Jagger the emu
was a struttin'
with Ringo the dingo
on drums an bongos
while Hendrix
the numbat riffed d' strat
an  Entwhistle
d'frogmouthed owl
grooved on his gibson
wid ***** left stage staring

Ethel got bizzy
check'n out the dancefloor
lookin for bling or moves wid a sting
perhaps a little ******* headbangin

well down
at the southdoor
trouble was brewin'
foul words
was spewin between
d magpie n seagull crews
till the bouncers,
kanga & roo
hustled dem
all outside for a brew

up near the stacks
Pheobe the lizard
was flashin
a matchin
frill n grill ensemble
while Stan, her man
was fillin his bill
at the buffet table
as only a pelican can
at the grub bar
sat the kookaburra trio
Max,Tom, Deccy
havin a speccy
at tha lady
cockatoos n' galahs,
givina chuckle
at the bruhaha
they had created
comin flyin from
near n' far to this
surberb n spectacular
festival of fauna
"tho hot as a sauna
best dis year sofah"

jus inside
d' recovery corner sat
Horn a blue tongue lizard
feelin a bit pukey n' flat
den dere was
Kayla n' Jac
a pair o koalas
who now be zonin
from d eucalyptus
dey been a chewen
alldayz

outaback time it's awastin
with dis watchin n waitin

Ethel hit the floor
wherever
she booggied,
grooved or h-banged
she got a big crowd,
given her ground
to shake
her dreds around
cause dat girl
is dangerous
wid her dredlocks man,
to which Zach
the one eyed wombat
can well attest

Now not bein a dancer
***** got lonely
so looked upa chat
with the rest
of d' backpackin crowd
he swapped recipes
for green brownies wit
Boomer the orangatang,
harvest spots wit
Goth the friutbat,
Hamish de otter,
quiet de globetrotter,
did giv ***** some tips
about surfin rips
furder down de coast.

so dey shimmyed
an dey shammyed,
dey talked
an dey squawked
till d' old sun
came out to play
den dey wandered
and dey wended
back down
d' track to d' town
to sleep d' day away.

as to our Ethel
and *****,
well
dey crawled
gingerly
inta their bed,
they cuddled
an dey clicked,
dey kissed
an dey snicked
and dey
blew dey
selfs away
Conor Letham Apr 2014
Dey real kewl. Dey
selfie skool. Dey

glow goonz. Dey
PC geeks. Dey

luv Jay-Z. Dey
RT #JK. Dey

tan tangaz. Dey
pRT bangaz. Dey

dwn danger. Dey
jack jäger. Dey

dbl dip. Dey
do trip. Dey

l%k weL 7k. Dey
die s%n, LOL innit.
I wanted to do a piece that was almost identical to that of "We Real Cool" by Gwendolyn Brooks (https://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15433), except longer and in text-speak so it's in alignment with today's culture.
Derick Van Dusen Oct 2010
ah hear da dog a snorin and da heavy breathin a da wolf
ah feel da wind a blowin and da chill dats brought in with it
  ah see da tings dey creepin to da shadows where dey creach
ah hear da turtle skootin to da den for shelta from da storm
  ah feel a mighty shakin comin out chru da broken ground
ah see a terrible storm a brewin in da distance waitin out its time

  ah watch as tings dey change an no always for da best
ah see da way dey act when dey done know dey bein watched
  ah know da tings dey be doin now dey tink meh watchin
ah see dey know, dey change dey tings dey do
  ah feal da change she comin and comin for ya know dey change
ah can na keep a runnin away des tings ah went an run to far

  meh guess is da was da right ting ta do
meh goin no betray da love dey sho meh
  meh tinks ah done right by him ah wont betray
ah can feel dah silance an da tension in da air
  ah know da time she comin for meh but ah hope she no to soon
ah see whas goin on an fallin down around meh

  ah no goin to pretend no more, des tings bother meh so much
ah no goin to hold my tongue when ah've been offend'd
  ah no goin ta take tings da wrong way any more too much time be wasted
ah got ta find where ah can stole away from da waves of questions raised
  ah feel des tings but can na change dem no more than change shes wanted

  ah hear da dog a snorin gettin after chasen tails
ah hear da turtle skootin to da den for winter warmth
  ah know how what wrong ah've done has come back round
ah can see she been cryin she wares it on her sleeve
  ah can see u no more smilin tryin headed for da bed
ah know da whistle ah hear come runnin o da trouble, ah stay out
I like this one
Reece Dec 2013
hatasha hullah - dey
parablah nuh parrah
vey, okay, huttah, ulay
narralah, narrah, nutay

That interim between dreams and consciousness, that momentary lapse of reality
When slave children don't howl and the wild animals lay tamed in sun traps, weary

Your scattered thoughts betray reality
and you
question everything - now waking
Smiling chief, chirping loud
Your body gathered and prepared
under torchlight in dusty tents
Ingesting iboga and that old familiar numbness overpowers
You've been here for a life now, looking back on your life now
hatasha hullah - dey
vey, okay, huttah, ulay

Witch doctor, tribal medicine, fanning smoke from a wild fire
flashing imagery akin to memories of when life was decadent
you remember the taste of stray rain drops on your upper lip on muggy British summer days
and waking on a beach, bloodied as the sand at your feet is the next recollection, how powerful
the act of reflection, as you recall the mirrors of the sea and your torn body weakened and inept
The gathered village chant in unison and splinter groups fall off beat only to rejoin intermittently

Remember the Burmese boy far from home on the Gabon shoreline
and he informs you of your own death,
and asks you why do you breathe still?

hatasha hullah - dey
parablah nuh parrah
vey, okay, huttah, ulay
narralah, narrah, nutay
Oh laa, ley ley lahh ley lah
ley hatasha hullah - dey

On some beaten path lost in Angola you carried two packs, food for the world
but you fell starving and spluttered on the rock that looked like your home
Rebels run wild in jeeps black as night, your supplies strewn on rubble grounds
- hatasha hullah - dey
Taken in a flurry, twittering birds in far off trees betray your trust and fly away
in the opposite direction, and the juggernaut jeep catches air over uneven tracks
You were scared and crying under blindfolded eyes and captors jeered, captivated
- parablah nuh parrah
An orchestrated mass of military garbed children with rifles gather you abruptly
when the car stopped with a rumble
And tied to rusted rigs you're gagged and stripped, bloodied your face now
as they beat you and laugh
- vey, okay, huttah, ulay
Congolese giant man, sword in hand and grimacing through bared teeth
Making bold gestures and speaking some inscrutable language
You cannot answer and fear is now in control, you shiver in the ghastly draft
On failure to answer you must be beaten, your back is lashed, repeatedly
- narralah, narrah, nutay
You remain silent but cry in disparity, after shrieks of horror finally escape your barren lips
Through stinging eyes you assess the surroundings after hours of torture when they retire
to their leather beds of shame and innocence faltered, try and remember how to live
- Oh laa, ley ley lahh ley lah
Months must have passed, survive off insects and morning dew on the muddy floor
This African wasteland, time forgotten, child soldiers and lack of humanity is trivial
Always scheming, recollect the armament and through door-way shack trapped light
you see a clear path, and it is good
- ley hatasha hullah - dey
The pinnacle nightfall anticipated arrives, and your skinny wrists released now easily
(their faltering lack of knowledge and abundant braggadocio betray them)
AK laying in moonlight illumination, a sign of God perhaps, but experience proves otherwise
(How cruel the dreams you had of such a gift)
When they spot you leaving, the night lights up, wild crackle of gunfire, heart beats, tribal drums
(To massacre children, such proficiency, the dreams were mindful)
No lapse in concentration, you may ruminate on objective morality in due time
(Crawling through blood and bodies of children, so pure, cadavers tell lies)
The clearing ahead in giant trees, you run and don't look back, praying for no pursuit
(Another genocide committed by a white man, justified perhaps this once)
Weeks pass and you falter only to slurp rain water from Congolese sipping cups the leaves
(Blacking out somewhere in the Republic, or on a border or who cares, as you died long ago)
- vey, okay, huttah, ulay
  ley hatasha hullah - dey

To awake from hallucinogen dreams, and cruel memories linger, it's painful you agree
Witch doctor still sings, lonesome now as the tribe apply ointments and silently pray
The fire still dances to some incredible song and your scars redacted, physical and other
How incredible the mind feeling fuzzy and that insane dream is just that - a dream
You black out again, a common occurrence but upon waking you're free, no tribe exists
With a sheepskin rucksack full of cassava, plantains and sugarcane and cocoa beans
Months pass and you make it to the North, when you leave Africa your body is new
and your mind is stable, no lingering cognizance or frightful thoughts of a forgotten ordeal

You arrive in Turkey, to partake in ***** with nimble girls
and I see you floundering on silken sheets,
My memories were fresh as the nymph on your lap
I write to you a note, and you turn alabaster, moon faced being
I was there always and saw every moment
Your ideals on morality are hazy at best, and to your behest I detest all that you stand for
Is your afterlife so pure, now that bodies litter the forest floor
and do you believe that I am not (a) God
and is this mere poetry, or an indictment of your folly and a warning to all whom engage
but do you not also see that every reaction was an action taken to your original action
and when all is said and done, do you no realise that from the day you were born
you were born a God and that God was born dead
and this is just that interim between expiration and consciousness, that momentary lapse of reality
when slave children don't howl and the wild animals lay tamed in sun traps, weary

hatasha hullah - dey
parablah nuh parrah
vey, okay, huttah, ulay
narralah, narrah, nutay
hatasha hullah - dey
parablah nuh parrah
vey, okay, huttah, ulay
narralah, narrah, nutay
hatasha hullah - dey
parablah nuh parrah
vey, okay, huttah, ulay
narralah, narrah, nutay
Oh laa, ley ley lahh ley lah
ley hatasha hullah - dey
FlipThePoet Jun 2022
(in naija broken english aka pigin)

in these varying decision times
i just dey on a low
nor be say the matter tire me
i suggest say, i just dey distracted.
as Roe dey fight Wade
conje dey para for me.
omo, na next from one babe then unto another
na ee be the motive,
sadly this lifestyle na everything but
extravagantly ****.
as dem dey pursue Trudeau
na so i dey chase down my destiny,
na when i go take mind re-write
this exam wen dey in front of me?
for naija, election matter dey make man japa
my timeline say na Peter Obi go be their papa,
funny enough i get this feeling say
we dun dey reach the moment wen things go better,
like say this summer na "turn around season".
the true be say, either politics or breakfast
las las everybody dey fight somethin.
the true be say if you dey para, you go have to rise above it.
the true be say, na only God get remedy.

e dun pass time when we go dey look persin for face
e dun reach time when we must to carry matter for head.
this one nor be joke o, but na wake up call
Babatunde Raimi Sep 2019
A Poem: Bros., Wey You?*

Bros., Wey you?
I hear say your game tight
I wan hear your market
You no need to drop shekels
I just wan help you

Come make me reason
No cone form Asari for me
I no be Orpkorpise oh
Na lashing things oh
You know now!

Abeg make you do pem oh
Na white sky I go take come
Make your name dey your neck oh
Preye say you Gallant dia
Oya, make we enter yonder

Make you walensh well oh
Dem no dey use shame drink poison
I see you, I see heaven
After every don kpomkpi
Las las, we go dey alright

No worry, wetin be suya
If I want make my mouth dey busy
I go just dey blow whistle
So you no go provoke
Know say Lasgidi Erema no fit

When I finish with you
You go know say devil na area boy
Na God be Godfather
Kpata kpata na draw
Warri Erema no dey carry last

I go soon bracket you for Effurun junction
Before omuta go enter
No time to check time
This motor dey delay my destiny
I don dey reach your crib

My temper dey rise now
And I no fit use am boil rice
Afterall, no vero for maternity ward
When I work you finish
You go hear alaba

Today, he no get as he be
I go run your matter wella
I know say you go make sense
Abeg, wuna gi mi cold shack for di side
Nothing dey happen

Babatunde Raimi (c)
Author/Life Coach/Poet
"You self don try, no need to explain
Your effort dey shine like torchlight for night
With every step you take, you dey make your way
And make am for people, every single day

Your dedication be like lighthouse for night
De guide others through darkness, make dem see light
You self don try, and dat one be fact
Just dey push  forward, no need to look back

Your progress dey proud, your spirit dey bright
You self dey try, and everything go dey alright!"
jeffrey robin Sep 2014
///  • ||
<>
/    (       \
   )
(
(        )

#####

*****          *****
All a dem ***** girls

YEAH *****  YEAH *****
all a dem ***** girls

***** ***** ***** *****
All a dem ***** girls

/////../////

Seem em in da school yard        
Seen em at da bar        

Heard one talkin !!!

What a ***** girl YEAH !
what a ***** girl

*****           *****
All dem ***** girls

YEAH. YEAH
YEAH YEAH

See all a dem ***** girls

////

Dey say de lookin FER love
But dey never see me

Dey say dey got somethin ta give
               But all they do is               Take



All dey want is for someone
To take away all der pain

Dey *****     *****

Dey jes ***** girls

*****      *****
Crazy little ***** girls
De
Glendy Burk
is mighty fast boat,
Wid a mighty fast captain too;
He sits up dah on de hurricane roof
And he keeps his eye on de crew.
I can't stay here, for dey work too hard;
I'm bound to leave dis town;
I'll take my duds and tote 'em on my back
When de
Glendy Burk
comes down.


Chorus:

**! for Lou'siana!
I'm bound to leave dis town;
I'll take my duds and tote 'em on my back
When de Glendy Burk comes down.


De
Glendy Burk
has a funny old crew
And dey sing de boatman's song,
Dey burn de pitch and de pine knot too,
For to shove de boat along.
De smoke goes up and de ingine roars
And de wheel goes round and round,
So fair you well! for I'll take a little ride
When de
Glendy Burk
comes down.

Chorus

I'll work all night in de wind and storm,
I'll work all day in de rain,
'Till I find myself on de levydock
In New Orleans again.
Dey make me mow in de hay field here
And knock my head wid de flail,
I'll go wha dey work wid de sugar and de cane
And roll on de cotten bale.

Chorus

My lady love is as pretty as a pink,
I'll meet her on de way
I'll take her back to de sunny old south
And day I'll make her stay
So don't you fret my honey dear,
Oh! don't you fret, Miss Brown
I'll take you back 'fore de middle of de week
When de
Glendy Burk
comes down.

Chorus
Cedric McClester Apr 2015
By: Cedric McClester

The night was hot
So she retreated
To her front stoop
But things got heated
5 shots rang out
Into the night
And who got hit
You guessed it right

Dem thugs ‘n gangstas
Ain’t up to no good
Dey always
Shootin up the neighborhood

Pregnant and shot
Right through the neck
And so the ambulance
Made the trek
To the hospital
Five blocks away
Where she arrived
DOA

Dem thugs ‘n gangstas
Ain’t up to no good
Dey always
Shootin up the neighborhood

In the O.R.
It was intense
But due to God
And providence
A healthy baby boy
Was born
Torn from her womb
His mother, gone

An act of violence
Gone aerie
A pregnant woman
Caused to die
Because of someone’s
Senseless act
And nothing said
Can bring her back

Dem thugs ‘n gangstas
Ain’t up to no good
Dey always
Shootin up the neighborhood

In the O.R.
It was intense
But due to God
And providence
A healthy baby boy
Was born
Torn from the womb
His mother gone

An act of violence
Gone aerie
A pregnant woman
Caused to die
Because of someone’s
Senseless act
And nothing said
Can bring her back

Dem thugs ‘n gangstas
Ain’t up to no good
Dey always
Shootin up the neighborhood


(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester.   All rights reserved.
Dem Thugs 'N Gangstas was inspired by true facts that unfortunately replicates in black and brown neighborhoods.  I write many of my poems from the perspective of the journalist that I am.
Natalia mushara Jul 2015
Sum gots it all's wrong
Wen dey all about money
An no class?
Stupid boyes breaking girl in half
Did dey forget dey chance
At a ma like me?
Dey jus don't see
Blind baby boyes.
As today a boye man try hitting on me today
This girl don play
Dis chicka don play
Wit bullshitta's
And watch keepa's
Dey to busy
And I'm to busy fo dey nonsense.
Stupid boyes.
Derick Van Dusen Oct 2010
ah really hope mah words done fall on deff ears
ah really hope dey hit home and squash all mah fears
  ah really hope mah actions done land on blind eyes
ah really hope dey too hit home an silance all mah cries
  ah really hope mah love done fall on a broken hart
ah really hope it hits home and keaps meh from fallin apart
  ah really hope mah faith done find a fallin soul
ah really hope it his home and leads mah to dah final gole
  
  ah really hope ahm lisnin when dey speak ta meh
ah reall hope wah dey say gets through an saves meh
  ah really hope ahm ready when ahm called to prove
ah really hope dey prove ahm worthy of her too
  ah really hope ahm not da broken hart
ah really hope da pieces can na be taken back apart
  ah really hope ahm faithful when da sole come callin
ah really hope dat sole done do meh in to da dien
This, meaning the work above, is my original work no part of the above work may be copied in whole or in partn without my express written permission. The writeing style is atributed to Kathy Patton McLermore. I am sure that style is not originally hers so if anyone would like to please let me know whos it is...?
Jens Mar 2015
I'm standing under the eave
the rain turning streets into rivers
I'm waiting for my dam-da-di-dey

I see umbrellas,
plastered in their faces,
people scatter hurriedly,
all looking for their dam-da-di-deys

then you, with hair all soaked, you're running
to this old sack of blood
the taste of cold rain
on your lips
and a dam-da-di-dey
hey
edna ellwood Dec 2011
Dey can' make me ride no bus.
I'm tellin' you, dey can' make me.

You know, dey all riled up in dere,
since we started walkin' to work.
I's like dey finally startin' to realize what we can do.

I tell you, Yvonna, I walk three mile to work
e'ry day. E'ry day! Can you believe?
I walk all dat way in my heels;
oh, how my feet are blisterin'!

But I don' let 'em know, no, ma'am.
No, ma'am. I jus' smile like I got all deh
love a' Heaven on my side! Can you believe?
Yes, ma'am, I do. I do.

I get home e'ry day now afte' supper
'cause I can' take no bus.
I much rather walk dan sit in deh back, believe me.
But i's so sad, Yvonna, you know?
To see my chirren tryin' so hard tah cook for 'emself.
I feel bad, honestly.

My husban', he workin' so hard,
he almos' die when he come home.

We go to church, Yvonna, e'ry Sundy, you know?
Don't you, girl?

I pray. I pray dat all dem white people
will leave us alone. Alone, I say!
Dey all preachin' 'bout "We Da People"
'n all dat ****, well, I tell you,
we people too!
We may be black but I tell you,
I tell you, Yvonna, we God's people, too.

Yes, ma'am, we are.

Speak up, girl, I can' hear you.

Well, I guess it don't matter.
Ain't like nobody listenin'.

Nobody listenin' to a old, achin' feet *****.
Nobody but you.
Sa Sa Ra Jun 2012
Sore’ us
Ooze
‘da poor ‘ust ones
Black scotch and de’wars
**** ‘um is fin’er
As I run from life
‘a from any at all.
‘dis ain’t ‘dey party
Fa’ de’ parted departing
It’s just ‘dey way
Of getting ‘duh deed done
It’s not mystery
Nor ‘duh chance.
See?
Pure despair
‘nings discernment
Evils low ruse
Vindictive benedictions
Pleasures ease
Smell’s clear
While here
Something’s sick
’nings’ fatale
‘ah a‘traction
Sum treacherous torture
Of sentenced de jour…
Jeer’us!
Infectious disease’us
Runnin’ rampant
Of spells complete
Consumption ‘us
Divergin’ opinions ring
Must be sick ’o
Is pathetic delusion ’o
Imagine
Is just imagining
Flashbacks of ole
Smackums’ hymn
Kind’a makes me laugh
But truth is too
Much to rash
That woman’s
Complete
Abusive…
Trash!
Got the world?
Or her wrath
Taken out the best…
Mother Natures Son
Everything he cares for
His family and chill
‘da heir
‘dey run
Only pain and death‘ eruption
Ultimate relentless destruction
Her kind of fun
Yeh ‘dey disorder of disorders
Kin‘da be a gun
Yud luve to be swift
For such ‘da gift
That takes you from ‘dat world
She’s so horrid
From hell they’d tried to bar ‘er
They’d hope to have starv’n out her
But souls she’s quick devour’n
Takes you out
To bear pain upon ya’
Despair, would you’ve joy
Preparations of
Desperations…
She’s suicide!
She’ll get ya on her dream sensations
Thee unforgivable debts
War crimes kinda’
You’ve got comin’
Lest her best compensations
U’d try n try to escape
Marked for pain
Marked not to make it
As prey unto desolations
Of the desperate
And ultimate violations
(She is Suicide
Kind’a be a gun)
(Spring 2010)
I actually considered this a blessing to be able to write this!!
Not legally separated, the Power of Persecution, Control and Manipulation,
Magical Understanding of Wounds, Weaknesses in the most Vulnerable Ways!!
Yes I have not been immune from suicidal thought yet as a notion I am Done!!!

I was ever wrong
for ever a wish
to leave for
now I am
where
we all
<3
:
B
E
'
L
O
N
G
!
.
.
.
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/forgive-me-all/

I was nearing 2 years towards with what I was hoping,
to be an end of 18.5 years Suicidal Idealization!!
So this was a gift for record!!!
Sure I had Lyme Meningitis, opportunistic within HS neck injury.
Though nothing like relationship issues with spouse and now,
with 3 kids who really mattered beyond myself.
Myself who took things like 'Dark Nights of the Soul',
as worthy conditioning till such point!!

I no longer prescribe to such notions...

We can do all this self realization with self honesty only,
and All Self Love Gifts found within then also,
With True Love, Joy and Fun!!!
<3<3:):)!!!R!!
Babatunde Raimi May 2020
Dem say we no go blow
With the line of thought wey we dey tow
Where dem dey when water we dey flow?
Come enter Coconut on the low

Sometimes alarm dey tear
But my brother, make you no fear
If you believe and throway every despair
"Oluwa" go turn your hussle to flair

You fit dey push barrow or do barber today
People go soon gather to celebrate you one day
If it no be like a weekday
But na sure bet say na someday

We fit no look like am today
Dangote start with sweet for him day
Don Jazzy do security for the way
And all of dem don blow today

Kpomkpi, las las we go dey alright
Just make sure say you hussle right
One day you sef go blow enter flight
Come join the billionaires dey alright

But when you don reach your prime
No forget say you too first do the time
Before everything come start to rhyme
Make you show love to your goons for flexitime
Na by like that you go take sustain am for lifetime
Natalia mushara Nov 2015
So many ******* out there in da world. So many nutjobs who speak without thinking.
What are dey thinking? Dey crazy or something?
Knowing nothing?
Speaking like bubbles
Foaming from dey mouth
Like rabid fauna. Its ok its dey who will change but not me who will change. Im better off ignoring demented creeps. Im better off the pathe of being nice and kind like alwayes. Kindness kills kindness killas .
Vani j Jul 2016
little bird
cant fly; cant fly
eyes always
looking at the sky
Never heard of a bird that can't fly
**** up lil bird
cold soup;
is all u gonna ever try
feed ur lovesick heart
lil bird
lovepotion is losing its high
oh lil bird
dont freeze wen ur parents
tumble you into this wholehell sky
dont get cold lil bird all dey want for u is to find ur own sky
bt shame lil bird ur mind has found its own neverland sky
oh lil bird ;if u could just fly
i know lil bird how u like the high
jst try; just try
ur siblings are shouting from the sky
u watch them lil bird with awe inspiring sigh;
and u turn your face lil bird
coz u cant face d lack of same love u find in their eyes
are u not trying lil bird???? tell me  or  have u jst glued your
eyes to the sky
fear lil bird has it turned you to
a box of ice and u keep looking for fire  to turn you from cold to nice
in the night ; hiding in the shadows  comes ur fight
keep fighting lil bird searching for dat thing  dat destroyed you
from the start
an enemy  so variant even u wont recognize  no one sees it lil bird
but u know lil bird how it is dat u hav to fight keep fighting fight fight fight fight fight fight fight..........
u laugh lil bird ...about how u thought once dat ppl were so high now u see them in the real light
dey got blood on their lips lil bird fools think that smearing lipsticks  can make it hide
but in the same light can u see urslf too lil bird
******* off of ppls love to make u high
oh sick lil bird how is ur idealism
love is your drug; yellow avian
and u want it unadulterated even more than your diet
even a slight impurity; u r spinning out of sight
stop dreaming lil bird come back from d neverland sky
maybe dey r jst ppl
and maybe dey r jst trying to survive
even with blood on their lips
and even with a foot that has
never touched a shoe for life.
so come lil bird come down from the neverland sky
they will never know  how it feels to see  the world , and want to change everything from left to right, to see someone in pain and get their own heart ripped apart
or how a song can make someone feel alive
and how when  you watch a movie and for a day become the character u like
funny lil bird  how u remind me ....
and when you want ppl to understand you without words.....
watever lil bird jst come down from d neverland skies
Cluttered head of a lil bird
jeffrey robin Sep 2013
It jes me an da boys
---
We romp stomp
Run amok


Me an da boys
-----

Erryone say

Whatever DEY wants ta say

Truth?

**** day ****

DEY say

(Cause DEY wants ta say it!)
••

Me an da boys

DEY gonna come try

**** our sorry *****

Next week

(Dats what I think)

••

Next week

World war three

Will be here an you probably dyin

---

Big ****** deal

You cryin out

---

YE gonna say it with the mud in your mouth!

We'll see
Won't we  !

••

Jes me an you an DEY boys!

Little flesh toys

Dead on the street!

Yeah I mean

You an me
PROLOGUE:

“’We must stop this brain working for twenty years.’” So said Mussolini’s Grand Inquisitor, his official Fascist prosecutor addressing the judge in Antonio Gramsci’s 1928 trial; so said the Il Duce’s Torquemada, ending his peroration with this infamous demand.’”  Gramsci, Antonio: Selections from the Prison Notebooks, Introduction, translation from Italian and publishing by Quintin ***** & Geoffrey Nowell Smith, International Publishers, New York, 1971.

BE IT RESOLVED: Whereas, I introduce this book with a nod of deep respect to Antonio Gramsci--an obscure but increasingly pertinent political scientist it would behoove us all to read and study today, I dedicate the book itself to my great grandfather and key family patriarch, Pietro Buonaiuto (1865-1940) of Moschiano, in the province of Avellino, in the region of Campania, southern Italy.

Let it be recognized that Pete Buonaiuto may not have had Tony Gramsci’s brain, but he certainly exhibited an extreme case of what his son--my paternal grandfather, Francesco Buonaiuto--termed: Testaduro. Literally, it means Hardhead, but connotes something far beyond the merely stubborn. We’re talking way out there in the unknown, beyond that inexplicable void where hotheaded hardheads regurgitate their next move, more a function of indigestion than thought. Given any situation, a Testaduro would rather bring acid reflux and bile to the mix than exercise even a skosh of gray muscle matter.  But there’s more. It gets worse.

To truly comprehend the densely-packed granite that is the Testaduro mind, we must now sub-focus our attention on the truly obdurate, extreme examples of what my paternal grandmother—Vicenza di Maria Buonaiuto—they called her Jennie--would describe as reflexive cutta-dey-noze-a-offa-to-spite-a-dey-face-a types. I reference the truly defiant, or T.D.—obviously short for both truly defiant and Testaduro. T.D.’s—a breed apart--smiling and sneering, laughing and, finally, begging their regime-appointed torture apparatchik (a career-choice getting a great deal of attention from the certificate mills--the junior colleges and vocational specialty institutes) mocking their Guantanamo-trained torturer: “Is that what you call punishment?  Is that all you ******* got?”

If, to assist comprehension, you require a literary frame of context, might I suggest you compare the Buonaiuto mind to Paul Lazzaro, Vonnegut’s superbly drawn Italian-American WWII soldier-lunatic with a passion for revenge, who kept a list of people who ****** with him, people he would have killed someday for a thousand dollars.

Go with me, Reader, go back with me to Vonnegut’s Slaughter-House-Five: “Billy Pilgrim has become unstuck in time . . .”
It is long past the Tralfamadorian abduction and his friendship with Stony Stevenson. Billy is back in Germany, one of three dingbat American G.I.s roaming around beyond enemy lines.  Another of the three is Private Lazzaro, a former car thief and undeniable psychopath from Cicero, Illinois.

Paul Lazzaro:  “Anybody touches me, he better **** me, or I’m gonna have him killed. Revenge is the sweetest thing there is. People **** with me, and Jesus Christ are they ever ******* sorry. I laugh like hell. I don’t care if it’s a guy or a dame. If the President of the United States ****** around with me, I’d fix him good. Revenge is the sweetest thing in life. And nobody ever got it from Lazzaro who didn’t have it coming.  Anybody who ***** with me? I’m gonna have him shot after the war, after he gets home, a big ******* hero with dames climbing all over him. He’ll settle down. A couple of years ‘ll go by, and then one day a knock at the door. He’ll answer the door and there’ll be a stranger out there. The stranger’ll ask him if he’s so and so. When he says he is, the stranger’ll say, ‘Paul Lazzaro sent me.’ And then he’ll pull out a gun and shoot his pecker off. The stranger’ll let him think a couple seconds about who Paul Lazzaro is and what life’s gonna be like without a pecker. Then he’ll shoot him once in the gut and walk away. Nobody ***** with Paul Lazzaro!”

(ENTER AUTHOR. HE SPEAKS: “Hey, Numb-nuts! Yes, you, my Reader. Do you want to get ****** into reading that Vonnegut blurb over and over again for the rest of the afternoon, or can I get you back into my manuscript?  That Paul Lazzaro thing was just my way of trying to give you a frame of reference, not to have you ******* drift off, walking away from me, your hand held tightly in nicotine-stained fingers. So it goes, you Ja-Bone. It was for comparison purposes.  Get it?  But, if you insist, go ahead and compare a Buonaiuto—any Buonaiuto--with the character, Paul Lazzaro. No comparison, but if you want a need a number—you quantitative ****--multiply the seating capacity of the Roman Coliseum by the gross tonnage of sheet pane glass that crystalized into small fixed puddles of glazed smoke, falling with the steel, toppling down into rubble on 9/11/2001. That’s right: multiply the number of Coliseum seats times a big, double mound of rubble, that double-smoking pile of concrete and rebar and human cadavers, formerly known as “The Twin Towers, World Trade Center, Lower Manhattan, NYC.  It’s a big number, Numb-nuts! And it illustrates the adamantine resistance demonstrated by the Buonaiuto strain of the Testaduro virus. Shall we return to my book?)

The truth is Italian-Americans were never overzealous about WWII in the first place. Italians in America, and other places like Argentina, Canada, and Australia were never quite sure whom they were supposed to be rooting for. But that’s another story. It was during that war in 1944, however, that my father--John Felix Buonaiuto, a U.S. Army sergeant and recent Anzio combat vet decided to visit Moschiano, courtesy of a weekend pass from 5th Army Command, Naples.  In a rough-hewn, one-room hut, my father sat before a lukewarm stone fireplace with the white-haired Carmine Buonaiuto, listening to that ancient one, spouting straight **** about his grandfather—Pietro Buonaiuto--my great-grandfather’s past. Ironically, I myself, thirty yeas later, while also serving in the United States Army, found out in the same way, in the same rough-hewn, one-room hut, in front of the same lukewarm fireplace, listening to the same Carmine Buonaiuto, by now the old man and the sea all by himself. That’s how I discovered the family secret in Moschiano. It was 1972 and I was assigned to a NATO Cold War stay-behind operation. The operation, code-named GLADIO—had a really cool shield with a sword, the fasces and other symbols of its legacy and purpose. GLADIO was a clandestine anti-communist agency in Italy in the 1970s, with one specific target:  Il Brigate Rosso, the Red Brigades.  This was in my early 20s. I was back from Vietnam, and after a short stint as an FBI confidential informant targeting campus radicals at the University of Miami, I was back in uniform again. By the way, my FBI gig had a really cool codename also: COINTELPRO, which I thought at the time had something to do with tapping coin operated telephones. Years later, I found out COINTELPRO stood for counter-intelligence program.  I must have had a weakness for insignias, shields and codenames, because there I was, back in uniform, assigned to Army Intelligence, NATO, Italy, “OPERATION GLADIO.“

By the way, Buonaiuto is pronounced:

Bwone-eye-you-toe . . . you ignorant ****!

Oh yes, prepare yourself for insult, Kemosabe! I refuse to soft soap what ensues.  After all, you’re the one on trial here this time, not Gramsci and certainly not me. Capeesh?

Let’s also take a moment, to pay linguistic reverence to the language of Seneca, Ovid & Virgil. I refer, of course, to Latin. Latin is called: THE MOTHER TONGUE. Which is also what we used to call both Mary Delvecchio--kneeling down in the weeds off Atlantic Avenue--& Esther Talayumptewa --another budding, Hopi Corn Maiden like my mother—pulling trains behind the creosote bush up on Black Mesa.  But those are other stories.

LATIN: Attention must be paid!

Take the English word obdurate, for example—used in my opening paragraph, the phrase truly obdurate: {obdurate, ME, fr. L. obduratus, pp. of obdurare to harden, fr. Ob-against + durus hard –More at DURING}.

Getting hard? Of course you are. Our favorite characters are the intransigent: those who refuse to bend. Who, therefore, must be broken: Paul Newman in Cool Hand Luke comes to mind. Or Paul Newman again as Fast Eddie, that cocky kid who needed his wings clipped and his thumbs broken. Or Paul Newman once more, playing Eddie Felson again; Fast Eddie now slower, a shark grown old, deliberative now, no longer cute, dimples replaced with an insidious sneer, still fighting and hustling but in shrewder, more subtle ways. (Credit: Scorsese’s brilliant homage The Color of Money.)

The Color of Money (1986) - IMDb www.imdb.com/title/tt0090863 Internet MovieDatabase Rating: 7/10 - ‎47,702 votes. Paul Newman and Helen Shaver; still photo: Tom Cruise in The Color of Money (1986) Still of Paul Newman in The Color of Money (1986). Full Cast & Crew - ‎Awards - ‎Trivia - ‎Plot Summary

Perhaps it was the Roman Catholic Church I rebelled against.  The Catholic Church: certainly a key factor for any Italian-American, a stinger, a real burr under the saddle, biting, setting off insurrection again and again. No. Worse: prompting Revolt! And who could blame us? Catholicism had that spooky Latin & Incense going for it, but who wouldn’t rise up and face that Kraken? The Pope and his College of Cardinals? A Vatican freak show—a red shoe, twinkle-toe, institutional anachronism; the Curia, ferreting out the good, targeting anything that felt even half-way good, classifying, pronouncing verboten, even what by any stretch of the imagination, would be deemed to be merely kind of pleasant, slamming down that peccadillo rubber-stamp. Sin: was there ever a better drug? Sin? Revolution, **** yeah!  Anyone with an ounce of self-respect would have gone to the barricades.

But I digress.
jeffrey robin Jan 2016
.


******
Muslim loving
Queer





You know the type !


Lazy

Welfare scamming

*** pervs

And drug addicts

• )?( •

An dey hate god


An dey hate you    

and dey wan ***** yer wife

And da kid !!


)(

Bad bad libbie !!!

""


So

Let's deport them all back to hell

And build a fence so they can't get back in

And ban that compassion crap

And give government the power to **** anyone

Not opposed to Big Government

That'll show em !



.
Natalia mushara Aug 2015
Ma daddy always tolde me
Natalia" daddy always rite
Truste me girl
Daddy always rite,
Don go jus finding any ******
Kus cretins like ants
Dey always builde nest round yuo
And swarm yuo
Like da ants dey are
And ya daddy was rite
I do got lot of ants
Trying to swarm me
I just swat the bugs awaye
Dey pesty.
imagine five undred tousand tampons
imagine ow much moisture dey would absorb
imagine all de bajinas, imagine the smell they would make.
i love me ganga, it makes me imagine
Gat-Usig Oct 2013
Aniversari ng Mag-jowa
Mansari ng Mag-jowa,
Valentayns Dey
Sa loob ng bartolina.


May wan en onli,

Kahapon kaututan ko si Bebot,
Nakaposas ang mga kamay at 'di makakilos
Nakatali ang mga paa sa kadenang
May bolang bakal,
Si Bebot ay matitigok na.
Nagkaututan kami sa gawing madilim,
Tangan ang Gud Morning,
Pamunas ng luha.
Humahagulhol dahil kay Dok Puti,
Hinahanda na nito
Ang kanyang kahahantungan,
Said na said ang mga hikbi;
Pinid na pinid ang mga kagalakan,
Gustong pahintuin ang bawat saglit.
Di mapigil ang hatol,
Nasa dulo ng karayom
Nakasalalay ang lahat;
Unti-unting naniningkit si Bebot,
Ginagapos na siya ni Dok Puti sa katre;
Walang sinuman ang makakaampat
Sa naturang likido.
Kahapon, kaututan ni Dok Puti si Bebot.
"Lav, sapitin mo nawa ang iyong katahimikan."


Sa Valentayns Dey,
kahit sinong mag-jowa.
-  Juan Dela Cruz, M.D.


P.S.
Alay sa bawat magkasintahang pinagtagpo't
pinaglayo ng pagkakataon.
3 reggae doobies sat on a wall.
One of them was seven feet tall.
The second was short, and fat.
De **** was tough, n' carried a gat.

All of a sudden, a doobette walks by.
De tree doobies wanna giv'er a try.
De bluntz lean in a little closer.
Each givea whistle lik a poser.

De female spliff dismisses deir plees.
De doobies cut 'er off n' get on deir kneees.
Dey beg, and dey beg, and dey cry.
But she turns away and says, "nice try".

De doobies jump back, onto deir wall.
Didn't get how she resisted their call.
A new baety walks by, to test their luck.
Hopefully dis spliff will be down to ****.

The tall one walks around front.
She waves her hand, shooin' dat blunt.
The fat one takes a shot, talks derty.
Clearly she ain't in da mood to be flirty.

Da gangster ****** roll takes a shot.
Literally, he ******' shot 'er bumba clot.
De doobies flee, as the doobette falls.
Dere goes 3 reggae doobies who sat on a wall.


*Respect women. You never know when they might save ya life.
It'd be jokes if the doobies were all cats instead. Right?
Me be 'avin a good time enjoyin' me boombastic trailer park home.
Den a tornado of Reggae come rollin' down da road.
Reggae Kids with a Reggae attitude.
Hooligans with a passion. My passion.
Reggae

Da flurry of rastafarianism be tearin' up the houses.
Destroyin' mailboxes as dey 'proach me home.
Den, like lightnin' they be in front of me.

We like you, Reggae Reggie
They say
But we be as poor as a washed up Island Boy
I fear for my safety
So we gonna have to rob you

Me pull out a gun n shoot the kids.
****'n chumps tink dey can rob me.
No way Jose.

*******, bad boys

Life went on.
This really happened to me this mornin'
G J O'Brien May 2019
There once was a man
who lived on down da bayou
went crabbing for his amors etouffee but before he got to dat bayou
he picked up his bon amigo
then dey headed down highway 41
Well the trip was going smooth
as the wind be blowin til they stopped at the station for some pane upon arriving to dat station it was being robbed for its payment and now they got a 3rd in company
Its been a long time coming, who dat cajun running, said he must've lived on down the road. Ain't stopped for no crawdads ya know they dont know where dey at, the ole creole man be ramblin again. Dey been back and forth, up and down, fought like a mule, acted a clown, dont think dey known theys right from left. Mason jar of daniels, open road in the high beams. Ain't no telling the cajun man's dream and his podners sceme.
Sa Sa Ra Dec 2012
If you don't by know as of yet whom
I refer to as __,
you will soon enuf;

It is rare that I can go there so well, even on occasion for the destructive,
5th dimensional gifts running backwards, Houdini by grave doing back-flips,
for along with the Heart's of David Copperfield types wanting to know how,
can we pick up a few of these tricks, in other lifetimes my type picked up many,
places along of course through Kemet's of Egypt, and not so far back but,
is where I had to go on the endless effort of trying to find the magical child,
already gone by first of memories and I thought woot hoot I could juggle,
the woes of humanity or inhumanity as I see know, you know by;

justification of I don't see any more or less innocence or guilt,
round here but if there is such a great need when I saw it,
and figged I cud get through it, it was love for what else,
could there be and I do, be and fill so much very need;

but X'yzz....ah 'um once there was Shakespeare,
an era wrapping up by befalling heads wanting bread,
of whom exclaimed well if those are their terms and conditions,
'Let'em eat cake' ergo and or our newer foundations; but as far as,
I knew it and I wondered and pondered how why wherefore before,
someone who seems projective of who dare be Queen or Princess,
more than aristocratic, the vine of genetics, KISS keep it simple silly,
why war for this nonsensical stuff;

it's not the decadent decedent's,
but off Divine Spirit;

well money power sure can keep well hidden powers and you can,
hmmm get along for a spell but here a spell there a spell with each castle,
Humpty Dumpty oh well;

but now again is the Globe again along with Life,
the stage we are cast upon truly;

it's time for our own era's Renascence;

but last I knew them truly with all gifts 5th dimensional they and their darkly companions,
too now here they are onto years unmentionable, still can't honor it and I guess they,
just want death, not more than one way about it, they will try to out wait and hate;

hahaha,
but by me I've taught them all they know and no matter who they turn against me,
10k in a court room dey'd not dare a step by one in however remember Howard Hughes,
I would say I do always love and though too I am the one and only and best friend indeed,
even though I know I am the enemy, no matter what they say believe think and even feel,
but I love to play nice like thrice no mines about it,
giving all overly good information,
fairer than fair warnings;

they gather darkly more into about their hypnotic spells castings, kinda crazy all dead set against me, when last to save their own ***'s, there were some identity issues and class type things but they were, known as good in the end and yet we have yet again to begin;

'dey don't know themselves not even by here now this lifetime alone,
black art denialists wooing all about with sugary treaty's they bark bark,
but if they bit the wrong cat here to hard their teeth would fall out;

yet and the roots seeded here now for the better part of the show with new,
edit-eers producers rolling arts in, I know, I will, I can, I see these things always,
before they appear and blood bearing beings near on, ain't willing give or take,
some where and the billions of years the dust rocks and trees already are on;

all kinds of well you know, what we've got going round now along with a time,
to come from the woods of our hidings and out from the fear to be gods birth right,
citizens we played a lot of silly games of peeka boo pretend,
ain't heaven ain't here the list is long,
we know all to well
THE PROLOGUE.

This worthy limitour, this noble Frere,
He made always a manner louring cheer                      countenance
Upon the Sompnour; but for honesty                            courtesy
No villain word as yet to him spake he:
But at the last he said unto the Wife:
"Dame," quoth he, "God give you right good life,
Ye have here touched, all so may I the,                         *thrive
In school matter a greate difficulty.
Ye have said muche thing right well, I say;
But, Dame, here as we ride by the way,
Us needeth not but for to speak of game,
And leave authorities, in Godde's name,
To preaching, and to school eke of clergy.
But if it like unto this company,
I will you of a Sompnour tell a game;
Pardie, ye may well knowe by the name,
That of a Sompnour may no good be said;
I pray that none of you be *evil paid;
                   dissatisfied
A Sompnour is a runner up and down
With mandements* for fornicatioun,                 mandates, summonses
And is y-beat at every towne's end."
Then spake our Host; "Ah, sir, ye should be hend         *civil, gentle
And courteous, as a man of your estate;
In company we will have no debate:
Tell us your tale, and let the Sompnour be."
"Nay," quoth the Sompnour, "let him say by me
What so him list; when it comes to my lot,
By God, I shall him quiten
every groat!                    pay him off
I shall him telle what a great honour
It is to be a flattering limitour
And his office I shall him tell y-wis".
Our Host answered, "Peace, no more of this."
And afterward he said unto the frere,
"Tell forth your tale, mine owen master dear."

Notes to the Prologue to the Friar's tale

1. On the Tale of the Friar, and that of the Sompnour which
follows, Tyrwhitt has remarked that they "are well engrafted
upon that of the Wife of Bath. The ill-humour which shows
itself between these two characters is quite natural, as no two
professions at that time were at more constant variance.  The
regular clergy, and particularly the mendicant friars, affected a
total exemption from all ecclesiastical jurisdiction,  except that
of the Pope, which made them exceedingly obnoxious to the
bishops and of course to all the inferior officers of the national
hierarchy." Both tales, whatever their origin, are bitter satires
on the greed and worldliness of the Romish clergy.


THE TALE.

Whilom
there was dwelling in my country                 once on a time
An archdeacon, a man of high degree,
That boldely did execution,
In punishing of fornication,
Of witchecraft, and eke of bawdery,
Of defamation, and adultery,
Of churche-reeves,
and of testaments,                    churchwardens
Of contracts, and of lack of sacraments,
And eke of many another manner
crime,                          sort of
Which needeth not rehearsen at this time,
Of usury, and simony also;
But, certes, lechours did he greatest woe;
They shoulde singen, if that they were hent;
                    caught
And smale tithers were foul y-shent,
         troubled, put to shame
If any person would on them complain;
There might astert them no pecunial pain.
For smalle tithes, and small offering,
He made the people piteously to sing;
For ere the bishop caught them with his crook,
They weren in the archedeacon's book;
Then had he, through his jurisdiction,
Power to do on them correction.

He had a Sompnour ready to his hand,
A slier boy was none in Engleland;
For subtlely he had his espiaille,
                           espionage
That taught him well where it might aught avail.
He coulde spare of lechours one or two,
To teache him to four and twenty mo'.
For, -- though this Sompnour wood
be as a hare, --        furious, mad
To tell his harlotry I will not spare,
For we be out of their correction,
They have of us no jurisdiction,
Ne never shall have, term of all their lives.

"Peter; so be the women of the stives,"
                          stews
Quoth this Sompnour, "y-put out of our cure."
                     care

"Peace, with mischance and with misaventure,"
Our Hoste said, "and let him tell his tale.
Now telle forth, and let the Sompnour gale,
              whistle; bawl
Nor spare not, mine owen master dear."

This false thief, the Sompnour (quoth the Frere),
Had always bawdes ready to his hand,
As any hawk to lure in Engleland,
That told him all the secrets that they knew, --
For their acquaintance was not come of new;
They were his approvers
privily.                             informers
He took himself at great profit thereby:
His master knew not always what he wan.
                            won
Withoute mandement, a lewed
man                               ignorant
He could summon, on pain of Christe's curse,
And they were inly glad to fill his purse,
And make him greate feastes at the nale.
                      alehouse
And right as Judas hadde purses smale,
                           small
And was a thief, right such a thief was he,
His master had but half *his duety.
                what was owing him
He was (if I shall give him his laud)
A thief, and eke a Sompnour, and a bawd.
And he had wenches at his retinue,
That whether that Sir Robert or Sir Hugh,
Or Jack, or Ralph, or whoso that it were
That lay by them, they told it in his ear.
Thus were the ***** and he of one assent;
And he would fetch a feigned mandement,
And to the chapter summon them both two,
And pill* the man, and let the wenche go.                plunder, pluck
Then would he say, "Friend, I shall for thy sake
Do strike thee out of oure letters blake;
                        black
Thee thar
no more as in this case travail;                        need
I am thy friend where I may thee avail."
Certain he knew of bribers many mo'
Than possible is to tell in yeare's two:
For in this world is no dog for the bow,
That can a hurt deer from a whole know,
Bet
than this Sompnour knew a sly lechour,                      better
Or an adult'rer, or a paramour:
And, for that was the fruit of all his rent,
Therefore on it he set all his intent.

And so befell, that once upon a day.
This Sompnour, waiting ever on his prey,
Rode forth to summon a widow, an old ribibe,
Feigning a cause, for he would have a bribe.
And happen'd that he saw before him ride
A gay yeoman under a forest side:
A bow he bare, and arrows bright and keen,
He had upon a courtepy
of green,                         short doublet
A hat upon his head with fringes blake.
                          black
"Sir," quoth this Sompnour, "hail, and well o'ertake."
"Welcome," quoth he, "and every good fellaw;
Whither ridest thou under this green shaw?"
                       shade
Saide this yeoman; "wilt thou far to-day?"
This Sompnour answer'd him, and saide, "Nay.
Here faste by," quoth he, "is mine intent
To ride, for to raisen up a rent,
That longeth to my lorde's duety."
"Ah! art thou then a bailiff?" "Yea," quoth he.
He durste not for very filth and shame
Say that he was a Sompnour, for the name.
"De par dieux,"  quoth this yeoman, "leve* brother,             dear
Thou art a bailiff, and I am another.
I am unknowen, as in this country.
Of thine acquaintance I will praye thee,
And eke of brotherhood, if that thee list.
                      please
I have gold and silver lying in my chest;
If that thee hap to come into our shire,
All shall be thine, right as thou wilt desire."
"Grand mercy,"
quoth this Sompnour, "by my faith."        great thanks
Each in the other's hand his trothe lay'th,
For to be sworne brethren till they dey.
                        die
In dalliance they ride forth and play.

This Sompnour, which that was as full of jangles,
           chattering
As full of venom be those wariangles,
               * butcher-birds
And ev'r inquiring upon every thing,
"Brother," quoth he, "where is now your dwelling,
Another day if that I should you seech?"                   *seek, visit
This yeoman him answered in soft speech;
Brother," quoth he, "far in the North country,
Where as I hope some time I shall thee see
Ere we depart I shall thee so well wiss,
                        inform
That of mine house shalt thou never miss."
Now, brother," quoth this Sompnour, "I you pray,
Teach me, while that we ride by the way,
(Since that ye be a bailiff as am I,)
Some subtilty, and tell me faithfully
For mine office how that I most may win.
And *spare not
for conscience or for sin,             conceal nothing
But, as my brother, tell me how do ye."
Now by my trothe, brother mine," said he,
As I shall tell to thee a faithful tale:
My wages be full strait and eke full smale;
My lord is hard to me and dangerous,                         *niggardly
And mine office is full laborious;
And therefore by extortion I live,
Forsooth I take all that men will me give.
Algate
by sleighte, or by violence,                            whether
From year to year I win all my dispence;
I can no better tell thee faithfully."
Now certes," quoth this Sompnour,  "so fare
I;                      do
I spare not to take, God it wot,
But if* it be too heavy or too hot.                            unless
What I may get in counsel privily,
No manner conscience of that have I.
N'ere* mine extortion, I might not live,                were it not for
For of such japes
will I not be shrive.           tricks *confessed
Stomach nor conscience know I none;
I shrew* these shrifte-fathers
every one.          curse *confessors
Well be we met, by God and by St Jame.
But, leve brother, tell me then thy name,"
Quoth this Sompnour.  Right in this meane while
This yeoman gan a little for to smile.

"Brother," quoth he, "wilt thou that I thee tell?
I am a fiend, my dwelling is in hell,
And here I ride about my purchasing,
To know where men will give me any thing.
My purchase is th' effect of all my rent        what I can gain is my
Look how thou ridest for the same intent                   sole revenue

To winne good, thou reckest never how,
Right so fare I, for ride will I now
Into the worlde's ende for a prey."

"Ah," quoth this Sompnour, "benedicite! what say y'?
I weened ye were a yeoman truly.                                thought
Ye have a manne's shape as well as I
Have ye then a figure determinate
In helle, where ye be in your estate?"
                         at home
"Nay, certainly," quoth he, there have we none,
But when us liketh we can take us one,
Or elles make you seem
that we be shape                        believe
Sometime like a man, or like an ape;
Or like an angel can I ride or go;
It is no wondrous thing though it be so,
A lousy juggler can deceive thee.
And pardie, yet can I more craft
than he."              skill, cunning
"Why," quoth the Sompnour, "ride ye then or gon
In sundry shapes and not always in one?"
"For we," quoth he, "will us in such form make.
As most is able our prey for to take."
"What maketh you to have all this labour?"
"Full many a cause, leve Sir Sompnour,"
Saide this fiend. "But all thing hath a time;
The day is short and it is passed prime,
And yet have I won nothing in this day;
I will intend
to winning, if I may,               &nbs
Things be somehow
As I be man,
I dey try make I no bow
To pressure around town.
I no wan too think am
I no wan too show am.

Man dey try
Make man no cry.
To the world I sleek
Between you and me, I weak.

Come give me breast
Make I **** first,
Make I recharge my joy,
Treat me like a little boy.

I don sick
And na you be my medicine.

- @Olladave
Seye Kuyinu May 2014
it wasn't like we didn't know what was right or wrong
but sitting under abandoned structures at two in the morning,
talking about work, money and betrayal felt like neither.

i held the big bottle of beer for the first time
while stretching it out to her.
"Add ciga join oga", was her next response.
so i pulled it out from inside the pack. her pack.

"who you be? you be pastor?
why you come? you dey n.g.o?
abi you dey dea dey form good boy
siddon dea!"

so she blew out some smoke from her mouth,
blew what was left out of her nostrils
took another sip from the green bottle
some spilling off the side of her mouth
she scratched her back and waited for the next line

we managed to talk about what we did in the day.
i, a popular janitor, for better job to hang on to.
she, trader in Brazilian hair, owed by all her friends.
but i admitted being jobless at night
while she pleased other men for cash.

so she blew out some smoke from her mouth,
blew what was left out of her nostrils
took another sip from the green bottle
some spilling off the side of her mouth
she scratched her back and waited for the next line

"teach me facebook", she said
putting the sudden silence to shame.
so i grabbed her phone with in disgust,
but with plenty of curiosity,
while wondering what i was doing here.
"na ikenna send me dis fone"

so she shows me ikennas picture.
a young man with another woman beside her.
i quickly flipped through other pictures and messages.
some were about fights, some about clubs,
the others about robberies.

she blew out some smoke from her mouth,
i stand to go. so she asks, 'you go come shrine,
fela shrine tomorrow?'
with a smile only familiar friends can read, i accepted.

afterwards, she told the security men to let me go.
'na my friend'. a wicked smile scratched on the faces
of these men who stood for balogun street's security.
and we were friends. familiar friends.

many months have passed,
i blow the heat from my lungs with a sigh
i scratched my back and wait for this memory to erase.
what was i doing there?
Max Neumann Jan 2020
dis here speech addresses all colors
this speech addresses all colors

try to appreciate life
try ta appreciate life feel me?

try ta respect everyone
try to respect everyone

yo maybe eved try ta love people
maybe even try to love people

tis be what i done been learnin' in stationary treatment  
that's what i've been learnin in stationary treatment

if ya don't embrace such values
if you don't embrace such values

try at least tolerating others:

you's black, white and biracial brothers
your black, biracial and white brothers

don't forget you's sisters
don't forget your sisters:

black, biracial, white

24 hours be made of day and night
24 hours are made of day and night

ya feel me?
do you understand?

every man be a mister
every man is a mister

every woman be a lady
every woman is a lady

racists are lazy
racists be lazy

since they don't want to understand "others"
since dey don't finna understand "others"

lovin', tho, be de best mood to make it trough dis state that we call life.

loving, though, is the best mood to make it through this state that we call life.  

from me to you:
from me to you:

MUCH COLORBLIND LOVE
Today is a good day.
Dada Olowo Eyo Jun 2013
Hard work no be money,
Make you ask the man wey dey push trolley,
Sun, and rain, beat am tire,
Until the day wey him go retire.

*Nigerian pidgin english
De Camptown ladies sing dis song -- Doo-dah! doo-dah!
De Camptown racetrack five miles long -- Oh! doo-dah day!
I come down dah wid my hat caved in -- Doo-dah! doo-dah!
I go back home wid a pocket full of tin -- Oh! doo-dah day!


Chorus

Gwine to run all night! Gwine to run all day!
I'll bet my money on de bob-tail nag -- Somebody bet on de bay!


De long tail filly and de ******* hoss -- Doo-dah! doo-dah!
Dey fly de track and dey both cut across -- Oh! doo-dah day!
De blind hoss sticken in a big mud hole -- Doo-dah! doo-dah!
Can't touch bottom wid a ten foot pole -- Oh! doo-dah day!

Chorus

Old muley cow come on to de track -- Doo-dah! doo-dah!
De bob-tail fling her ober his back -- Oh! doo-dah day!
Den fly along like a rail-road car -- Doo-dah! doo-dah!
Runnin' a race with a shootin' star -- Oh! doo-dah day!

Chorus

Seen dem flyin' on a ten mile heat -- Doo-dah! doo-dah!
Round de race track, den repeat -- Oh! doo-dah day!
I win my money on de bob-tail nag -- Doo-dah! doo-dah!
I keep my money in an old tow-bag -- Oh! doo-dah day!

Chorus

— The End —